


Blinding Darkness

by fillamena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy Redemption, Found Family, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Redemption, draco is a good boy i promise, love me a good found family, no beta we die as women, only a little bit of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fillamena/pseuds/fillamena
Summary: A "small" rewriting of the events after Malfoy Manor where Draco is rescued along with the others. He finds himself drawn to Luna, wishing he could help her in some way, wishing he could give a little light back to her.Eventual Draco/Luna. More of a Draco-centric redemption, with Luna assisting. POV's switching between the two.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy! This is actually my first Harry Potter fic, and I wanted to try something a little different. If this one does well and I'm happy with it, I might branch out to other ships. leave a comment if you enjoy, this is definitely a little out there for me and my writing.
> 
> ALSO minor tw// for disordered eating around the middle of the chapter, just wanted to give a heads up because it's small but i'm not sure how anyone would be effected.

Draco never had worse nightmares than those long, dark days when the Dark Lord took up residence in his family home. He would see dark visions, shadows, dead bodies in every corner of his mind. They haunted him. He had no thoughts, only ghosts. Even while far away, tucked up in his dormitory bed at Hogwarts, he could see the shadows flit in and out of the windows, bothering his parents and ruining his memories.

He did what he was told, of course. He bided his time in the dark halls of the school that once used to be so full of light and laughter. He found himself yearning as he drifted off to sleep, wishing for those days strolling through the halls of Hogwarts, or nights sitting in front of the Slytherin common room fire with his friends. There was no fun anymore, even if they were Slytherins with nearly unlimited power. He even missed his constant battles with that idiot Potter. Potter, Granger, Weasley, all of them. Draco knew even letting his brain flick to those moments of childish tension were a mistake in this new world. 

When it came time for Draco to come home for Easter holidays, he found himself actually wishing he was back at Hogwarts, as much as he spoke ill of it. When he arrived back at home there were too many people there, crowding, obeying, groveling. The Dark Lord had even taken up his father’s seat at the head of the table. Every moment was cold. There was no warm fire, no delicious meals. It was as if the life had been sucked out of this home that had once had enough, just for the three of them.

Again, Draco wasn’t happy. His parents weren’t happy, either. He could tell whenever he saw them, they looked exhausted. There was something in the way his father gripped the handle of his walking stick, knuckles white as he was addressed by the Dark Lord. There was something in the way his mother stared at everyone around her, save for her husband and son, with disdain. She never even cast a soft gaze upon her wayward sister. She had no time for these Death Eaters who had entered her house, and Draco could tell.

Their home was not theirs anymore. Draco could tell his parents, with all their wild assumptions about the Dark Lord’s regime, never expected this. Their home overrun, their son branded, and - worst of all - the bodies inhabiting their basement. 

In the first days of Draco’s return home, he was sent down to the dungeons to “acquaint himself” with the prisoners. Of course, Ollivander had been there for months, even since before Draco had left for school. Old Ollivander, casting him a sad smile as he saw the first year coming in for his first wand, instead of this child trapped in a shell of misplaced responsibility. Hawthorn, unicorn hair core, 10 inches. Draco quickly cast his eyes downward as he walked briskly through the dungeon, away from the old man, missing the peculiar look in his eye when the wandmaker realized that was no longer the boy’s true wand. 

Draco reached the cell next to Ollivanders, raising his eyebrows as he looked in. There, on a dirty mat sitting cross legged with her head bent slightly downwards, was Loony Lovegood. She had been brought in in the time after Draco left for school after Christmas holidays, and Draco could tell. Her hair was dirty and had lost some of its blonde, turning darker than he remembered. Her purple turtleneck and baby blue overalls were dirty, stained with sweat, mud, and even a little bit of blood. She didn’t even have on those stupid earrings or ecclectic necklaces like she always did. She looked up as he came near. 

“Oh, hello Draco,” she said, her voice airy and a little more strained than he had heard during their time at school. “You have a very lovely home, even as much as I’ve seen of it.” 

Draco sneered, almost on impulse. Of course this girl, this loony freak, would have something nice to say even while trapped in the rooms beneath the most powerful dark wizard alive. Part of Draco admired it, part of him knew it was stupid. He never particularly hated Luna for anything except being weird, she was only guilty by association of Potter and Co..

“Hello, Loony. I’ve just come home. Glad you’re enjoying your stay. Is there anything I can get you?” He spat, surprised at the animosity he felt towards the girl.  
His sarcasm was almost completely lost on her. “Actually, I would like some more water. I haven’t eaten in… a few days, at the latest. But I think a little more water will hold me over.”

This was when Draco saw her again, without the judgement in his vision. Her cheeks were gaunt, her arms were frail, and he could see her ankle bones sticking out from under her pant legs. She looked like a skeleton almost, malnourished and frail. He felt slightly sick, knowing the feeling of losing too much weight too much quickly, and felt guilty for a moment, before he snatched it back. “Oh, is that all?”

“Yes, I think so. Thank you,” she smiled at him and tucked her head back downwards, into a meditative pose. 

Draco was taken aback. So taken aback, in fact, that he just simply turned and walked away. He was stunned walking all the way out of the dungeon, up the stairs, and into one of the hallways of the house. He had a brief moment of pity, and called out for a nearby house elf. Daisy, he thought her name was, not that he really cared.

“You. How often do the prisoners downstairs get fed?” He asked roughly.

“Oh! Master Malfoy! They get fed a few times a week, sir. Daisy doesn’t know for sure, she just does the cleaning, but they should get at least one meal a week, sir!” The house elf tripped over her words.

Draco thought for a moment. If Luna hadn’t eaten in a few days, but they were fed once a day, where did her food go? He almost smacked himself when he realized there was a small, grated hole between her cell and Ollivander’s. She must have been feeding the old man her own food, leaving none for herself. Draco felt himself act impulsively. He couldn’t just let anyone die in his basement.

He motioned to Daisy. “Go bring the girl water. Don’t tell anyone I told you to.” 

“Yes, Master Malfoy!” She squeaked, and went on her way. 

Draco felt disgusted at his own act of kindness, but tried to rationalize it. If she died, then the Dark Lord would be furious. Anyone in the house could be killed because one of their prisoners passed away. They were needed not just for information, but for leverage too. Not that they really needed it.

Draco heard his name called down the hallway, his mother walking briskly towards him, lips pursed. “Draco, dear. You need to come with me to the dining room. The Dark Lord has asked for our attendance.”  
He felt a cold shock run down his spine, instantly regretting giving the girl water. “Yes, mother.” He obeyed, taking her elbow and turning down the hall towards the Dark Lord.


	2. Chapter 2

Luna was not having a very nice time in the Malfoy dungeons. It was a beautiful house on the outside, but she found her cell rather cramped and cold. Every surface was always a little damp, and she never could get quite so comfortable as she had once been at home. 

Oh, home. She felt her heart squeeze a little bit, yearning for a warm bed. But Luna didn’t just miss the warmth. She missed her duvet, with the small embroidered flowers she had spent so long on. She missed her room and all of the little tidbits she had collected over the years. She missed the walls of her room, painted with the faces of her friends, the people who had shown such kindness to her over the years. She missed her father, collecting flowers in the fields, and helping with the latest articles of the Quibbler. She wondered how her father was doing, if he was doing Harry justice with his articles. Before she was taken, he had seemed more stressed than usual. It may have been all the wrackspurts.

When they came for her, Luna wasn’t surprised. She had been waiting, actually. She woke up, put on her favorite purple turtleneck and overalls, and pulled on a good pair of walking shoes. Luna decided not to wear her favorite radish earrings or any of her necklaces. She gently kissed her father on the cheek as she entered the kitchen, buttering a slice of toast. When she felt complete, she walked out to the front step and sat down, staring across their garden into the sky.

It was, again, no surprise when the shadows came. Great trails of black smoke filled her vision, and she found herself being roughly grabbed and hurtled through the clouds she had just looked out into. Her father screamed behind her, as two of the Snatchers stayed behind. Luna could guess why she was being taken. She only hoped her father would be okay. 

Her first night was by far the worst. Ushered in, Luna had seen Ollivander, the kind old wandmaker near death in the cell next to hers. She called out and caught his eye as he looked up. Before she could say anything, she had been thrown in, landed rather badly on her ankle, and had pushed herself as far as she could to the back wall, away from the leering eyes of the Snatchers. 

They had prowled, that first night. Pacing up and down the hallway outside her cell. Calling rude names and describing in rather horrifying detail how exactly they’d hurt her. She held her hands to her ears and hummed small songs to herself, just to stay calm. They were gone when she woke up.

On Luna’s second day in Malfoy Manor, a horrible feeling, like a dementor, entered the dungeons. She felt the hairs on her arms stand straight up, and shivers ran down her back. Luna heard soft footsteps. A darkness fell over her cell, and Luna looked up into the eyes of He Who Shall Not Be Named. 

She did her very best to keep from screaming, so she could not tell if that scream she heard was inside or outside her head. She felt every bad emotion she had ever felt in her life, all at once. She remembered her mother dying. She remembered the end of the DA. She remembered Dumbledore’s death. The man who was no longer quite man fixed her with a gaze, turning towards Mr. Malfoy, who was standing right next to him.

“Lucius, you say she is pureblood?”

“Yes, my lord. She is the daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, that harebrained journalist. She is also a known acquaintance of Harry Potter, my Lord.” Lucius looked nervous.

“Such a waste of blood on unwise resistance. Very well. Bellatrix can come in and do her work, just to see if she is keeping anything.”

All Luna remembers after that for quite a time was the cold, hard grip of unconsciousness, then waking up when the winter sun was no longer streaming in through her window. It took her a moment to notice the set of eyes fixed on her outside her cell. When the eyes noticed she was awake, they rose up into the menacing figure of Bellatrix Lestrange. 

Luna shivered, fiercely, as Bellatrix launched spell after spell in her direction. Hit with every curse and hex imaginable, Luna screamed. Her screams filled the room, and there was not a single second of time that wasn’t taken up by the sound of Luna’s screams, spells being cast, or Bellatrix’s questions that were less designed to be answered and more designed to hesitate long enough so she could hex the answerer. 

The next few days followed in this same pattern. She would wake up, be dropped off a plate of something gray and brown by a house elf (most of which she would pass through the bars to Ollivander, he needed it more than she), then Bellatrix would appear and torture her for hours and hours. She asked question after question, only a few of which Luna knew the answer to.

“Where is Harry Potter?”

“What is Harry Potter looking for?”

“Are they returning to Hogwarts?”

“How does it feel being a blood traitor?”

Luna’s calm and friendly disposition did nothing to lessen Bellatrix’s assaults. If anything, it made the spellcaster even more enraged. Luna didn’t know anything, how could she? Harry and Ron and Hermione always went off and did things without telling anyone else, how was she supposed to know where they went? 

After a few weeks of this same, maddening routine, with only a few days left off occasionally, for Bellatrix to take care of some business or torture another soul, it stopped. Suddenly, and without warning. Luna began to worry if they had found Harry, or something major had happened. She found herself falling into meditation, something that was a good calmer and past time. She also spent hours and hours talking with old Ollivander, straining her hearing so that they were not heard by their captors. 

Luna was surprised then to see Draco Malfoy standing in front of her cell. By her estimations, it should have been just the week before Easter. He was home for the holidays. Their conversation was awkward, but she greeted him warmly. It was even kind of him to offer to get her something. When he left, Ollivander waved over and gave her a warning.

“That boy is trouble, Luna,” he said weakly, “There is something wrong. He is not the boy his parents believe he is. He is not the boy who will be able to carry out the Dark Lord’s wishes, nor was he able to in the past. He is changing.”

With those cryptic words, Luna turned to see a house elf carrying a small glass of water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you're liking so far. I might have to take a step back from this project because although I have high hopes for it, I need my copy of the Deathly Hallows next to me and sadly I left it at home (I'm at school right now), so if I ever feel like I'm straying from the story a little bit, I might go on a small hiatus until I have my book back.
> 
> Until then, comment if you're enjoying and thank you for reading!


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